What's that to me? my father was no traitor: Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak. Duke F. Ay, Celia; we stay'd her for your sake. Cel. I did not then entreat to have her stay, Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together; And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans, Still we went coupled, and inseparable. Duke F. She is too subtle for thee; and her smoothness, Her very silence, and her patience, Speak to the people, and they pity her. Thou art a fool: she robs thee of thy name; And thou wilt show more bright, and seem more virtuous, Firm and irrevocable is my doom Which I have pass'd upon her; she is banish'd. Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege; I cannot live out of her company. Duke F. You are a fool :-You, niece, provide yourself; If you out-stay the time, upon mine honor, And in the greatness of my word, you die. [Exeunt DUKE FREDERICK, and Lords Cel. O my poor Rosalind: whither wilt thou go? Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine. I charge thee, be not thou more griev'd than I am. Ros. I have more cause. Cel. Thou hast not, cousin, Pr'ythee, be cheerful: know'st thou not, the duke Hath banish'd me his daughter? Ros. That he hath not. Cel. No? hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love Shall we be sunder'd? shall we part, sweet girl? Maids as we are, lo travel forth so far? Ros. That do outface it with their semblances. Cel. What shall I call thee when thou art a mar? But what will you be call'd? Cel Something that hath a reference to my state : No longer Celia, but Aliena. Ros. But, cousin, what if we assay'd to steal The clownish fool out of your father's court? Would he not be a comfort to our travel? Cel. He'll go along o'er the wide world with me; Leave me alone to woo him: Let's away, And get our jewels and our wealth together; Devise the fittest time, and safest way To hide us from pursuit that will be made To liberty, and not to banishment. [Exeunt. The action now begins in the Forest of Arden, where the exile Dake and his followers have found refuge. ACT II. SCENE I.—The Forest of Arden. Enter DUKE Senior, AMIENS, and other Lords, in the dress of Foresters. Duke S. Now, my co-mates, and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? This is no flattery: these are counsellors Which, like the toad, ugly and venonious, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Ami. I would not change it: Happy is your grace That can translate the stubbornness of fortune Into so quiet and so sweet a style. Duke S. Come, shall we go and kill us venison ? And yet it irks me, the poor dappled fools,— Being native burghers of this desert city,Should, in their own confines, with forked heads Have their round haunches gor❜d. 1st Lord. Indeed, my lord, The melancholy Jacques grieves at that; And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp Than doth your brother that hath banish'd you. To-day, my lord of Amiens, and myself, Did steal behind him, as he lay along, Under an oak whose antique root peeps out Upon the brook that brawls along this wood: To the which place a poor sequester'd stag, That from the hunters' aim had ta'en a hurt, Did come to languish; and, indeed, my lord, The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans, That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat Almost to bursting; and the big round tears Cours'd one another down his innocent nose In piteous chase: and thus the hairy fool, Much marked of the melancholy Jacques, Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook, Augmenting it with tears. Duke S. 1st Lord. O, yes, into a thousand similes. And never stays to greet him; Ay, quoth Jacques, Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there? In their assign'd and native dwelling place. Duke S. And did you leave him in this contemplation? 2nd Lord. We did, my lord, weeping, and commenting Upon the sobbing deer. Duke S. Show me the place; I love to cope him in these sullen fits, For then he's full of matter. 2nd Lord. I'll bring you to him straight. [Exeunt Oliver, foiled in his scheme to destroy Orlando at the wrestling-match, plots other means "to cut his brother off." reveals them to Orlando. Adam learns his intentions, and the faithful old was SCENE III.-Before Oliver's House. Enter ORLANDO and ADAM, meeting. Orl. Who's there? Adam. What! my young master ?—O), my gentle master. O, my sweet master, O you memory Of old Sir Rowland! why, what make you here? Why are you virtuous? Why do people love you? And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant? The bony priser of the humorous duke? Your praise is come too swiftly home before you. O, what a world is this, when what is comely Orl. Why, what's the matter? Adam. O unhappy youth Come not within these doors; within this roof The enemy of all your graces lives: Your brother-(no, no brother; yet the son- Of him I was about to call his father,)— Hath heard your praises; and this night he means This is no place, this house is but a butchery: Orl. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou have me go? Orl. What, wouldst thou have me go and beg my food? A thievish living on the common road? This I must do, or know not what to dc: I rather will subject me to the malice Of a diverted blood, and bloody brother. Adam. But do not so; I have five hundred crowns. When service should in my old limbs lie ame, Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood; Orl. O good old man; how well in thee appears Adam. Master, go on; and I will follow thee, [Exeunt. |